You may be miles away,
You may be close to home...

Come to meet me please my love,
Where the darkest angels lie...

You caress my back gently,
Brush back my hair...

Try and make me wear your clothes,
You try to tell me...

Massed produce poems,
Win an award or two...

Fly small vampire,
Fly through the night...

Thinking of the pain of thousands,
Alone I sit atop this hill...

Flying high,
Eyes almost blind...

My finger tips trace,
The lines on your face...

Afraid,
The darkness closes in...

I have no possesions,
I am stripped bare...

Do you know what its like?
No...